God Only Knows
by Cirque du Insanity
Summary: Booker is given a chance to be with his daughter.


_**Disclaimer:** _I do not own BioShock: Infinite.

* * *

There are too many. It does not make sense. Elizabeth is standing in front of him, but she is also standing at her own side. Her hair is long again, like when they first met, but the one in front of him… it is still short, cropped by the same blades that took Fitzroy's life. Then another appears, and another, and another…

His head hurts.

He can't breath.

He wants to throw up.

What does she mean, "this isn't the same place?" It is the same place. Who are those other women? Where is Anna? Who is Anna? Which one is his daughter? It's getting harder to breath and his head is pounding; there are two memories where only one belongs. He reaches up to touch his nose.

"You chose to walk away."

He does not want to look, but there is no doubting the feeling of fresh blood on his fingertips. He can smell it and it make him feel hot. It takes all of his willpower not to start retching, and as he swallows back the feeling, he can taste it instead. There's no denying…

"But in other oceans, you didn't."

"You took the baptism."

"You were born again as a different man."

He wants to stop her. Stop them. Stop Elizabeth. Stop Anna. If she doesn't say it, it won't be true. It cannot be true. How could it be true? It doesn't make sense. He knows who he is. He's Booker Dewitt. He can't be anyone else. He has been himself his entire life, and no baptism would change that. He refuses to believe her. He's Booker Dewitt. He is not…

Before he can stop himself, a single name tumbles past his lips, "Comstock."

He can feel the blood drip across his lips and he clenches his teeth hard together in response. There are two memories. He remembers taking the baptism, but he also remembers pushing past the crowd and going home. He remembers Columbia, but he also remembers Anna. In both worlds, he remembers Wounded Knee, but only in one does he remember the Boxers. This is too much and it feels like his head is going to explode. He is going to burst any moment from the pain and no one is going to save him.

Elizabeth – or is she Anna now?—is staring right at him. All of them are. He can feel all of their eyes, piercing blue, burning his flesh. Does she hate him now? Do they hate him now? He sold her. He sold them. He sold Anna. All this, all of her pain, is his fault, and in his head, he remembers every second of that pain he has caused her.

"It all has to end."

"To have never started."

"Not just in this world."

"But in all of ours."

There are more memories. All of them, he remembers every single one of them and he has to resist the temptation to fall to his knees and scream. There is more blood now, it has reached his chin and he can feel it dripping onto his clothes. Blue eyes are still watching him; all their lips are curved downwards. He cannot tell if she is upset with what is happening, or what has happened. Does she want him to be in all this pain, or does she want to save him? Only, she could never save him, he already knows what is about to come.

"Smother him in the crib." The words rush out before he can stop himself and his legs begin to shake. The world around him is crumbling, though he knows that he is the only one who can see it. The women – or is it woman?—in front of him is echoing herself for what seems like an eternity.

Smother. Smother. Smother.

"Before the choice is made."

He wants to push her back. He wants to scream at her and tell her to stop playing these mind games. He wants her to take them back to Columbia, so they can just leave and go to Paris… like she wanted.

"Before you are reborn."

But, this now, this is what she wants. It's what both want. It is what has to be done. The preacher – he recalls that his name is Whitting—is still behind him when he asks what name he will be taking. There are oceans where he will never take a new name, but in others he will.

"He's Zachary Comstock." One of the Elizabeths answers and grips onto his arm.

Wrong.

"He's Booker Dewitt." Another answers and grips onto his arm just as tight.

Wrong.

"No…" He corrects them, "I'm both."

He does not struggle as they push him into the cold water and as his body struggles to find air, he tries to focus on Anna's face, on Elizabeth's face. With him, Comstock will die. With him, Columbia will die. With him, she will feel no pain. In all oceans, no choice will be made and he will die.

And die he does. In the river he may have been reborn in. At the hands of the daughter he would have sold to the monster he would have become. There is no Zachary Comstock. There is no Booker DeWitt. There is only darkness. No pearly gates, no angels ready to greet him, and in contrast, there are no fires, or demons. There is simply darkness. Nothingness.

And then, it is as if the nothingness never happened. He feels everything all at once and he gasps, his lungs desperately taking in the air he was deprived moments before. His eyes rip open and widely scan the room. For a moment, he doesn't know where he is, but soon the familiar, yet dull, colors of his office jog his memories and he is… shocked, to say the least.

Booker knows he should be happy to be alive. He should be happy to be far away from that cursed city in the sky, but this just can't be right. He is supposed to be dead and if this is Limbo, he would much rather go back to the nothingness that death had offered him before. Slowly, he reaches up towards his nose – he has to be sure—but finds nothing. Where is he? Who is he?

Booker DeWitt, or Zachary Comstock?

For a moment, he thinks that this is another one of Elizabeth's tears, the same one he has seen far too many times. There is something missing though. There is no pounding, no screaming, no one telling him to bring the girl and wipe away his dept. The Lutece… twins are nowhere to be found and for the first time in far too long, it is silent.

For a moment, he thinks it might have all been a dream, but he refuses to believe that. It was all too real. Elizabeth, Comstock, the floating city…

"Anna."

He nearly jumps to his feet and for a moment, he has to lean against his desk for support, but he refuses to stop moving. He has to know. Where is she? Is she safe? Is it too late? Where is his Anna? It only takes a moment for him to reach the door and he calls her name again, his voice is far more desperate. Who is he? Booker DeWitt, or Zachary Comstock? Where is his daughter? Who is his daughter? Anna DeWitt, or Elizabeth Comstock?

The door opens and bangs against the wall.

It wasn't a dream. Columbia was real.

Anna was Elizabeth and he sold her.

He died to stop Comstock. He died to save his daughter.

So who is he?

There is a child crying in a crib.

"Anna… is that you?" He's nearly crying as he approaches the corner of the room where the old white crib is. He can hear a child crying, he can hear Anna, his Anna, crying. It isn't too late. He hasn't sold her. They can finally be together. He'll be a better father to her and they'll go to Paris, just like she would have wanted. He'll stop drinking and get a more respectable job. He can take care of her now. They'll be a family.

She stops crying once he is within her sights and smiles. It's awkward, like she doesn't quite know quite how to control her muscles yet, but it's a smile all the same. He's careful when he picks her up, minding her head, and holds her close. Her tiny arms reach for his face and grab at his cheek. He smiles though tears he hadn't even realized he had shed and kisses her tiny head; the downy, brown hair on her scalp tickles his nose and it makes him smile even more.

"I'm so sorry, Anna."

She coos and her awkward smile brightens up a little more (if that was even possible).

"I'm so sorry, Elizabeth."

Her bright blue eyes – her mother's, just like her mother's—seem to flash knowingly and she presses her forehead to his. A part of him wonders if he's holding onto Anna DeWitt and another part of him wonders if he's holding onto Elizabeth Comstock.

"No… you're both."

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**_When speaking to a friend, I brought up the idea that maybe in the epilogue both Booker and Elizabeth remembered their journey. I decided to roll with it._**


End file.
